


Tea for Two

by WhyWolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyWolves/pseuds/WhyWolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months after disappearing without a trace, Derek Hale is back in town and Stiles isn't sure how he feels about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea for Two

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, written on a whim over winter break. It's supposed to be cannon, but w/e. I legit could not think of a title, so the current one's a bit of a mess! :P

It had been two months since the Nemeton debacle. Two months since Stiles, Scott and Alison had visited the land of the dead. Two months since Derek and Cora had left Beacon Hills in the middle of the night, leaving behind no note, no clues to where they were going, and no sign they had ever been there.

Two months had passed. Two months of a darkness hiding at the periphery of Stiles’ vision, clawing at the corners of his mind. He didn’t talk about it much because it scared him. There was so much else going on in those two months that he didn’t want to burden anyone with it. He knew Alison and Scott were dealing with it, too, and sometimes the three of them would sit together in silent solidarity of the passing they’d experienced. But mostly they pretended it wasn’t there, the darkness, the void, that hid at the edges of their lives, threatening to consume them.

Stiles had gotten a call late friday night from Scott. The later’s breath was quick and light as he spoke into the phone, “Stiles, I think he’s back.”

Scott didn’t need to elaborate. They both knew who he was talking about. Derek Hale had returned to Beacon Hills. As Scott told it, he’d passed Derek’s car on the street. Not very subtle, but not very showy either. He’d returned with none of the fanfare nor the whirlwind of tragedy that usually followed him. He was just back. Back in the apartment he’d rented with Cora, Peter and Isaac for the better part of the last year.

It was a week before they did anything about Derek’s return. A week of frantic texts, and whispered, worried conversations.

“Should we talk to him?” that was Alison.

“idk & i don’t care,” Stiles typed.

Scott, living up to his alpha status, laid the plan.

“Saturday. We’re going over Saturday to talk.”

Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes, but agreed to come along.

* * *

They met at seven exactly that saturday. None of them were late. Stiles had shown up fifteen minutes early. He circled the block twice, feeling jittery, not wanting to wait awkwardly outside the building until the others arrived. He wished he wasn’t feeling so apprehensive, but he was. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets to keep them from shaking. Derek had left them for two months. Scott was the alpha now, but there was so much he didn’t know about the magical side of their world. They did their best, but they’d dealt with some messed up stuff in the past few months, some of it they still didn’t understand.

As Stiles finished his final orbit of the block, he saw Scott ahead of him, in front of the building. Alison and Isaac stood beside him, holding hands. Lydia was the last to show up, flouncing up to them at seven o’clock exactly.

“You ready?” Scott asked, turning to the others, his finger hovering over the buzzer to Derek’s apartment.

Alison nodded. Lydia shrugged. Isaac’s mouth pulled taught in agreement. Stiles just stood there.

“Let’s just remember that we want to hear him out. We don’t know what he’s been through.” Scott said. It was true, they’d agreed that they’d try to avoid conflict with Derek. Because who knew, maybe he had a reason for leaving. But it didn’t really sit right with Stiles.

“Fuck that.” Mumbled Stiles as he pushed aside Scott’s hand and pressed the apartment buzzer.

Derek’s voice didn’t sound at all surprised when he buzzed them in. The five of them squeezed into the elevator. Stiles stared at the Level 10 button that glowed in front of him, hearing the elevator ding as it passed each floor. He counted silently in his head, his stomach churning as his uneasiness grew. Over the past two months he’d thought about what he’d say, what he’d do if Derek returned. But now that he was actually back, and now that Stiles was actually going to see him, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

The elevator dinged a final time and the five of them spilled out into the hallway of the tenth floor, Derek’s door looming ominously on the other side of the hall. They didn’t need to knock. As they approached, it swung open. Stiles felt his breath catch in his throat.

Derek looked tired. He had the beginnings of a beard, and his hair was longer than Stiles had ever seen it. Despite this, his clothes looked clean and ironed. To his own annoyance, Stiles noted that his dark blue t-shirt was clinging in just the right places.

“Come on in.” Derek motioned for them to follow him into the apartment. The five trailed behind him. Scott turned to Stiles and raised his eyebrows, but Stiles didn’t return the gesture. He felt the anger he’d been suppressing for months, start to simmer deep in his chest.

Derek led them into the living room. It was pretty much as Stiles remembered it. Not much had changed, only now it was devoid of any trace of Cora and Peter, beyond a blurry photograph on the mantle. Derek sunk into a large leather armchair. When no one else followed suit he motioned to the couch saying, “Are you going to sit or what?”

Stiles sat as far away from Derek as possible. He was starting to feel nauseous.

“So,” Derek broke the silence, “ What’s up.”

Stiles scoffed, and Scott shot him a withering look.

“Where have you been, Derek?” asked Scott, his eyes hard, but a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, really.” Isaac chimed in. “It’s been months, Derek. Where the hell have you been?”

Derek shifted uncomfortably on the black leather.

“Cora and I went for a drive.” He said quietly. “ We drove as far away from Beacon Hills as we possibly could without leaving the country. And once we got there, Cora didn’t want to come back. You don’t understand what this town has done to her, has done to our family.”

If Stiles were a werewolf, he knew his fangs would have descended by now, and his claws would be tearing holes in the arm of the sofa. But he wasn’t a werewolf, so the most he could do was glower.

“She wanted out.” sighed Derek. “What could I do, but give her that? She’s been through enough.”

“So where’s Peter?” Lydia piped up, her green eyes piercing into Derek’s.

“He met up with us somewhere around Colorado.” Derek said. “He’s out east with Cora. I don’t think he’ll be coming back anytime soon.”

The air in the room hung heavy with silence as they sat there. No one seemed to know what to say.

Scott broke the silence, “So, are you staying in Beacon Hills, or are you heading off again?”

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Stiles’ shoved his hands into his pockets so no one could see that they were balled into fists.

“I just don’t know, okay, Stiles. I’ve been through a lot. This town haunts me, and I don’t know if I want that hanging over me forever.”

Stiles felt his temper rising. He could sense the darkness edging in on his periphery, but he didn’t care. He forced himself to stay away from it.

“You’ve been through a lot?” He spat. “Yeah. Poor Derek. Everything’s so tough for Derek. Yeah, well, tough. We’ve all been through a lot.”

“Stiles!” Scott hissed, staring at him.

“You’re the one that brought us into this mess, Derek.” Stiles was shaking.

“You have Scott now.” Said Derek motioning to Scott on the couch. “He’s your alpha. Don’t try to tell me that he’s not doing a better job than I would have. Whether or not I like it, he’s a better leader to the rest of you than me.”

“Whether or not you like it, your family brought us into this. You--” Stiles broke off, anger surging through him, seizing his throat. The darkness was closing in, and it was all he could do right now to fend it off.

They sat in silence as Stiles drew deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

All eyes turned to Scott as he stood up.

“Yeah. I think we’re going to go.” He said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Okay.” Derek didn’t move from his chair.

The rest of them stood, Lydia pulling Stiles up with her. He didn’t look at Derek as they left. They piled back into the elevator. The silence filled the tiny space until Stiles breathed out three words.

“Fuck that guy.”

Lydia didn’t stop laughing until they reached the ground floor.

* * *

Stiles lay awake in bed that night fuming over the day’s events. He shouldn’t have gotten so mad, but goddamnit what was he supposed to do? Derek had just up and left, had completely cut contact. The Hales had brought them into this terrifying world of monsters and death and then just deserted them. Stiles didn’t know why he was so angry. They had Scott now, and Scott was a good alpha. It was just, they were all still kids, really. Even though they’d turned eighteen, they were still just high school seniors, still just goddamn kids. And sometimes all they needed was an adult.

Stiles’ phone buzzed. It was Scott.

“U ok man?” lit up the screen.

He waited a minute before he typed a response.

“Yeah. Sorry. I know we said no conflict.”

His phone buzzed again.

“U want 2 talk?”

Stiles didn’t respond.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Derek’s return. One week since Stiles had lost his temper in Derek’s apartment. If he stayed away from that part of town, Stiles could almost pretend it hadn’t happened. But now, friday afternoon, Stiles was being forced back there. The Sheriff needed to pick up a package at the post office, but he was on duty. So he sent his son off to the nearest post office. Which, to Stiles’ great fortune, was directly across the street from Derek’s apartment.

Stiles rounded the corner of Derek’s street unnaturally fast. He kept his head down, praying that he wouldn’t meet anyone. He entered the post office and picked up the parcel without a problem. He headed out into the street, fully believing that he would get home unscathed. As he hurried down the sidewalk he was forced to stop abruptly as he collided with a big, solid mass.

The package he was carrying tumbled from his hands as his eyes travelled upwards to see just who he had collided with. His heart leaped into his throat.

oh.

no.

It was Derek. Stiles couldn’t help notice that his grey sweater was tight enough to follow the contours of his muscled torso and arms. Stiles pulled his eyes away from Derek’s biceps to timidly glance at his face. To Stiles’ surprise he didn’t look angry. There was an apology laced in his tired eyes.

“Jeez, I’m sorry,” said Derek quietly as he bent to pick up Stiles’ package.

Stiles took it silently when Derek handed it back to him. He was about to turn and flee when Derek spoke again.

“Hey, Stiles. I know we got off to a rough start last week.”

Stiles stared at him, “So?”

“Do you want to talk?” Derek’s face was hard to read.

* * *

Stiles wasn’t one hundred percent how it happened, but suddenly he found himself sitting on the same sofa as last week. Except this time, there was no one beside him, just a brown paper package he was supposed to be delivering to the Sheriff down at the station. Derek came in from the kitchen holding two steaming mugs of tea. Stiles couldn’t help but wonder where this sensitive, homey side of Derek had come from--he couldn’t for the life of him remember Derek ever offering them tea when they’d visited anytime in the last three years.

Stiles clutched the warm mug Derek handed him, trying to stabilize himself. Derek sat opposite him in the big leather armchair. Derek took a big sip of his tea. Stiles, not knowing what to do, followed suit. It was chamomile.

Derek sighed heavily, looking over at Stiles with a concerned look creasing the corners of his eyes.

“Are you doing alright, Stiles?”

Stiles wanted to say yes, to tell him that everything was fine and that he was sorry about last week. But that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. The words tumbled off his tongue so fast he didn’t think he could stop them.

“No. No, I’m not alright, Derek. Do you know what the past few months have been like? I have seen more bodies than I ever wanted to, Derek. I have seen more death than I thought I would ever have to. Things keep coming here and we manage to hold them back, but the time is coming when one day maybe we won’t.”

Derek shifted in his black leather chair as Stiles took a shaky breath.

“I died, Derek. Scott, Alison, and I, we all died. Deaton warned us that when we came back, things would be different, but I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t think it would be so,” Stiles paused, looking for the right word, “visceral.”

Derek looked uncomfortable.

“I can’t stop seeing death, Derek. Even when it’s not there, it is. Lurking on the edge of my mind, peeking around the corners of my vision. I can feel the darkness getting closer. I don’t know what it wants, and I don’t know how to keep it at bay. Sometimes I wake up, and I’m halfway back to the afterlife. Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m awake or dreaming because I see things, Derek.”

Stiles was shaking and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

“And you just left us, Derek. You and your uncle got us tangled up in this werewolf crap. You’re the reason all of this happened. And you just left. Yeah, we’ve been doing okay, but how long will that last? I’m so scared all the time. I just want it to stop.” Stiles had to blink forcefully to keep himself from crying. Crying in front of Derek Hale was exactly the last thing he wanted to do right now.

“After what happened with Jennifer, the Alpha pack,” Derek’s voice was soft and low, “After what happened to Boyd and Erica. I needed to get away. Don’t you understand? They were my fault. I live with that every day. It hangs over me. Sometimes I think this town cursed my family, Stiles.”

Derek paused as Stiles rubbed at his eyes.

“But I’m sorry Stiles. I didn’t know about...about that other stuff.”

“Yeah.” Stiles’ lip trembled and he cursed himself as a tear spilled down his cheek. “Sometimes I just wish everything could be normal, you know?”

Derek took a quiet sip of tea before answering, “Yeah. I know.”

Stiles couldn’t help himself, “Shit,” he mumbled as he started to cry. He didn’t know why he was so upset. He just knew that he spent months hating Derek for leaving, spent months scared that one day he would lose control, and now that Derek was back, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Stiles felt the couch dip beside him as Derek sat beside him. Stiles covered his face, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie, and tried to get a hold of himself. Suddenly, there was an arm around Stiles, and he was pressed into Derek’s chest. Stiles breathed in Derek’s scent, telling himself it was unavoidable under the circumstances. His breathing still shaky, he felt Derek’s hand running through his hair, and heard Derek’s voice, quiet and reassuring, telling him that it would be okay.

They stayed like that for a while. Stiles trying to calm down, Derek stroking his hair, telling him it was going to be alright. As Stiles’ breathing calmed down, he felt something press against his forehead. It took him a moment to register, but he was certain of what it was. Derek had pressed a light, comforting kiss against his forehead.

Stiles looked up at Derek. Derek looked a little sheepish.

“You feeling better?” Derek asked.

Stiles managed a small smile, “Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.”

Derek smiled back, “Don’t worry about it. We all have our moments.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Derek tilted his head slightly. And suddenly they were kissing. Stiles wasn’t sure who started it. Derek’s lips pressed gently against his own. Derek’s stubble, he’d definitely shaved since the last time Stiles had seen him, grazed his skin sending shivers up Stiles’s spine. Stiles parted his lips and Derek took the invitation to lick into his mouth. Stiles clutched at Derek’s biceps, feeling the muscles that rippled beneath his gray sweater. Derek’s hand found its way to the back of Stiles’ neck and ran through his hair. Stiles moaned quietly as Derek gently bit at his lower lip. Derek kissed a path down Stiles neck, pausing at his collar bones. Stiles ran his hands through Derek’s dark mess of hair, he still hadn’t cut it since returning to Beacon Hills. They found each other’s mouths again, as Stiles’ phone began to buzz.

“Shit, it’s my dad,” said Stiles, glancing at the screen, “I have to take this.”

Derek sat back smiling slightly.

Stiles answered the phone, “Yeah, hey, it’s me.”

He looked guilty, “I’m sorry, I’ll be right over. I got,” he only paused for a millisecond, but Derek caught it and smirked, “sidetracked.”

Stiles hung up and looked awkwardly at Derek, “I was supposed to deliver this package to my dad an hour ago. I should go.”

“Okay,” Derek nods.

There’s an awkward silence as Stiles grabs his package and gets up off the couch.

“Thanks, uh, thanks for listening today.” Stiles shifts his weight from side to side.

“Yeah, no problem.” Derek has to try to keep his voice from cracking.

“So, bye.” Stiles moved towards the door.

“Yeah.” Derek got up from the couch, but didn’t follow him to the door.  


It was only when Stiles was in the elevator and certain that he is out of earshot of Derek that the former burst into laughter.

“What the fuck just happened?” whispered Stiles to himself as he exited the elevator into the building’s lobby.

* * *

Stiles was still running the afternoon over in his head when he went to bed that night. In the dark and the quiet his thoughts were free to run wild. What exactly had happened? Well, for one, he’d made out with Derek Hale. But how? Or why? It wasn’t like he’d never noticed how handsome Derek was. He had, but Derek wasn’t his usual type. Stiles figured that maybe he’d spent so long obsessing over Lydia that he’d missed out on noticing that he might boys as well. What had happened that afternoon had taken him completely by surprise, but he wasn’t adverse to it. He’d rather enjoyed it. He just wasn’t sure how to proceed. Were they just going to pretend it had never happened? Or, what?

In any case, Stiles figured he probably wouldn’t be mentioning this incident to Scott.

* * *

Three days later Stiles phone buzzed, displaying an unknown number. It was was Monday night. Stiles was studying in the library. It would be closing in half an hour, but he needed some of their rare reference books, the kind you couldn’t take out. Truth be told, he wasn’t really doing homework, he was looking up theories about the afterlife. He figured that maybe he should start trying to make sense of what was happening to him, if he could. He hadn’t been coping well the past two months, and he wasn’t keen on repeating last Friday’s incident, where he’d completely fallen apart on Derek’s couch. Well, he wasn’t keen on repeating the emotional crying. Some of the other stuff could be repeated.

His phone buzzed. He scanned the number as he picked it up, but he didn’t recognize it.

“Hey it’s derek,” the message read. “We should probably talk.”

Stiles’ stomach turned. Yeah. They probably should. He didn’t take long to type back, “Ok.”

Derek responded quickly, “You free now?”

Stiles sighed, put away the dictionary, and typed, “Sure. On my way.”

Derek’s apartment was only a few blocks from the library, so he left his jeep where it was. He could come back for it later.

Derek’s voice didn’t give Stiles any clues as to how their talk would go when he buzzed him in. Stiles rode the elevator up, becoming a little more nervous every time the elevator dinged for a floor.

Once again, Derek opened the door before Stiles could knock.

“Hey,” said Stiles. His hand still raised to knock.

“Yeah. Hey.” Derek’s face was hard to read. “Come on in.”

As Stiles entered the living room, he saw a pot of tea, two mugs, and a plate of cookies sitting on the coffee table. When did Derek become a total grandma?

Stiles sat down on the sofa, again, as Derek sat across from him in the, now familiar, black leather armchair. Neither of them said anything as Derek poured them both mugs of tea.

“Sugar? Milk?” Derek looked at Stiles.

“Uh, both, yeah.” Stiles stuttered.

There was nothing but the sound of Derek’s spoon clinking against the edges of the mugs as he stirred sugar and milk into both. He handed one to Stiles and cleared his throat.

“So. Friday.” Derek started.

“Yeah. Friday.” Stiles echoed.

“I, uh, probably shouldn’t have, you know.” Derek looked embarrassed.

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have.” Stiles wanted to revel in Derek’s discomfort for a while. After all of Derek’s bullshit he’d dealt with over the years. He was getting a bit a payback. But the way Derek’s face fell, made Stiles reconsider.

“No, man. It’s fine.”

“You sure?” Derek asked, abashed.

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled. “It was fun.”

Derek looked relieved. “Oh,” he said. “Good.”

They sipped their tea and Stiles struggled not to giggle at what an odd scene they made.

“So, Friday.” Stiles started. “Is that...was that a one-off?”

Derek hesitated.

“Because, I mean,” Stiles continued. “I’d be okay with that. But I’d also be okay with, I dunno. Like I said, it was fun.”

Stiles face burned. This was probably the most honest he’d been about his feelings in a long while. He wanted to look away from Derek, scared that he’d find a look of contempt growing on Derek’s face. But to Stile’s surprise, Derek smiled.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “It was fun.”

They just looked at each other. Their mugs clutched in their hands.

“I mean,” Derek continued, “It wasn’t the best circumstances. But if we both had fun, then that’s okay.”

Stiles grinned. “So,” he said, “What now?”

Derek put his mug down on a coster. Stiles noted how adult that gesture seemed.

“I guess,” said Derek, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, “We could try again?”

Stiles put down his mug. Not on a coster.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess we could.”

Derek made the first move. Crossing the room and pinning Stiles to the couch, his mouth pressed against Stiles’ hungrily. Where last time, his kisses had been gentle, this time they were ravenous. Stiles wasn’t complaining. Derek’s lips parted and Stiles’ tongue made its way past them. He ran his hands down Derek’s back. He heard Derek moan as Stiles slid his hands under Derek’s shirt and up his bare chest.

Derek bit gently at Stiles’ ear, then peppered kisses down his neck. Stiles shivered as Derek’s stubble scratched his skin. Derek tugged at the neckline of Stiles shirt and pressed his mouth just below his collar bone. Stiles was sure that would be a hickey tomorrow, but he didn’t care. Derek’s breath was hot on Stiles neck and Stiles could feel himself hardening. He could feel Derek pressed against him, and was quietly pleased that Derek was hard too.

As Derek’s tongue explored Stiles mouth, Stiles tried to focus enough to fumble Derek’s belt open. Derek paused, pulled back, and smiled down at Stiles.

“We don’t have to, you know,” he said.

Stiles undid the top button of Derek’s jeans, “I know.”

Stiles pushed Derek’s pants down to his knees as Derek took his shirt off. Stiles pressed his mouth to Derek’s nipple and smiled at the moan that elicited.

Derek helped Stiles out of his T-shirt and jeans and the two of them looked at each other on the couch in their underwear.

Derek laughed, “Nice boxers, dude.”

“What!? Bart Simpson is cool, man.” Stiles shot back, grinning.

Derek slipped his fingers under the waistband of the Bart Simpson boxers and smiled, “I’m not judging. They’re gonna have to come off, though.”

Stiles chuckled, “Why couldn’t this have happened last year. When the virgin sacrifices were going on. I would’ve slept so much better at night.” He stopped when he saw the look on Derek’s face.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Derek looked concerned. “I keep forgetting how young you are.”

“I’m an eighteen, Derek.” Stiles stroked Derek’s hand, its fingers still thrust under his waistband, “I want this to happen. With you.” He leaned up and kissed Derek gently.

“Okay,” Derek agreed. “I want this, too.”

Stiles ran his fingers down Derek’s sides. He leaned in to bite at Derek’s hip.

“Bed. Now.” He whispered.

* * *

Derek’s bed was huge. Stiles was used to his own twin bed at the Sheriff’s house. In comparison, Derek’s bed was gigantic. Stiles lay amidst Derek’s cool, blue sheets, the duvet had been discarded some time ago, and it lay in a heap on the floor. As Derek kissed a sloppy line of kisses down Stiles’ chest, Stiles’ arched his hips without thinking. He ached for Derek. Derek smiled and finally wrangled Stiles out of his boxers. Bart Simpson joined the duvet on the floor.

Stiles was hard. His foreskin pulled back, and precum started to leak as Derek grabbed the base of his dick. Stiles moaned Derek’s name. The moan turned to a gasp as Derek ran his tongue along the underside of Stiles’ cock.

“I’m going to warn you, Derek,” Stiles panted, “I don’t think I’ll--I won’t--I won’t last very long.”

Derek smiled, and swallowed him whole. Stiles’ hips cocked as Derek ran his mouth around Stiles’ dick. He was in ecstasy and he hadn’t even finished yet. Derek’s tongue worked magic over him. Derek slipped it under Stiles’ foreskin, and Stiles knew he was done for. As Derek continued with his work, Stiles managed to gasp his name before his cum spilled down Derek’s throat.

Stiles lay, panting and spent, in the middle of Derek’s cool blue sheets. All he could think was that if you’d told him three years ago, that he’d be getting his cock sucked by Derek Hale, he’d have told you you were out of your fucking mind. He was also thinking that as far as first blow jobs go, he’d probably won the lottery.

Derek slid next to Stiles on the bed. He nuzzled Stiles neck, and Stiles could feel his boner pressing, through his black boxer-briefs, into his side. Stiles rolled over to face Derek, looping his fingers through the waistband of his underwear. Derek smiled, something Stiles still wasn’t completely used to, and helped him pull them off.

Derek sighed happily as Stiles wrapped his hand around his hard dick. Stiles grinned. This was the first dick he’d touched that wasn’t his own, and he was very pleased with it. He let his hand move up and down the shaft of Derek’s cock, letting the foreskin glide back and forth over its head. Derek moaned, and Stiles increased his speed, varying the pressure. Derek arched, and it wasn’t long until he came, hot and wet, on his own stomach.

Stiles looked down at Derek, scruffy and spent, and smiled. He ran his fingers through the mess they’d made on Derek’s stomach. He leaned down and kissed Derek, soft and slow. The two of them lay there together for a while, smiling stupidly at one another.

“So, I guess this isn’t going to be just a one time thing?” Stiles asked.

“I guess not,” Derek answered, his eyes crinkling as he smile.

“Good,” said Stiles. “Because I think I kind of like you.”

“I kind of like you, too.” said Derek.

* * *

When Derek went to clean himself off, Stiles lay in his giant bed, still naked, thinking about the evening. It occurred to Stiles, that this was the first time he’d been happy, like, really happy in a long, long time. For once, the darkness that usually edged his world was gone. He felt at peace. He knew he was going to have to face the aftermath of his journey into death soon, but right now he was just happy existing. Now he knew that there was hope, that he could lift the dark fog of afterlife that still clung to him. Nothing was perfect, and it never would be, but he was moving forward, and that was what was most important.


End file.
